


Redux Main Story

by Kyubahubba



Series: Redux Universe [1]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyubahubba/pseuds/Kyubahubba
Summary: It begins.
Series: Redux Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614811
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue [Lucian]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins.

Commotion assaults the Capital as sirens start being heard and troops moving, converging to its western side. Towards the Imperial Collective Academy, I add to my thought. Excellent.

The motorcade hastily races past the people being evacuated by the Army, trying not to throw all our effort down the gutter.

‘Do you think he’ll be there, Minister?’ Alex asks, eyeing me intently. Alexander Harvey has been my deputy since I was nominated Minister of State Security, an invaluable member of my team and one of the few that could be trusted with secrets.

‘We spent far too much political capital to make this happen only for him not to show.’ I answer.

Our speed starts to lower as the security cordon that’s been set up by the Imperial Guard comes into our sight, all a part of the protocols that were set up in case the Capital was attacked by something beyond us, One guard approaches the car and asks the standard questions. He doesn’t hide his surprise when he realizes the identity of its occupants, likely wondering why a member of Cabinet would be heading towards a disaster and not away from it,

With all things verified the motorcade drives on, grinding to a proper halt once our destination is reached. Alex and I leave our SUV and two of the agents in our detachment follow suit, flanking us,

‘Sir.’ She points to a particular soldier. The insignia on his shoulder sleeve shows an ornamental ‘A’, easily identifiable by anyone with the most basic military knowledge. ‘The Arcane Division is here.’

‘Good. It means he’s here too.’ I say.

Many see the Arcane Division and its soldiers as a relic of the past, being surpassed by humanity’s technological progress. Those who’ve seen them in action beg to differ.

This might not be a waste of everyone’s time after all.

I signal them to follow me, walking past the soldiers and observing the situation. Enough time had passed for them to realize the true nature of the “threat” and a command center should be established by now, with the one we’re looking for in it. Or so I hope.

As the arcane troopers grow more and more numerous, being sprinkled with the presence of a few elite Commandos and other specialized units, I realize we’ve reached the center of the commotion. Two colonels, identifiable by the silver eagles on their chests, seem to be in a lively discussion with a man. Blond, medium-height and well-dressed, not much stood out in his appearance or presence apart from his glasses. Arthur Young, Grand Warden of the ICA.

I’ve been looking for him for the past weeks, but it seems he has a talent to go by unnoticed.

He glances at me and lets out a breathy sigh of relief, the two officers also looking at my group. I can clearly see the clockwork in their heads start to turn and the dots being connected.

‘Arthur,’ I greet him. ‘I’ve been trying to reach you for a while.’

He shows no acknowledgement of my presence and nods at Alex instead, who replies with a polite smile and a nod of her own. Arthur turns back to the colonels and gives them a few instructions I’m not able to hear, dismissing them.

He turns back to me, but his expression remains unreadable (only if you don’t look past it). 

‘Lucian. Is this mess a work of yours?’ He gestures to the movement around us. Many of the troops were tidying up and preparing to leave with only his own escorts remaining in place.

‘Would you believe me if I said no?’ I say, adding a playful smirk to my question. He still shows no hint of amusement.

‘Who else has the resources to do a false flag Beta-class containment failure in the middle of Fiducea? The war ended a few months ago, do you think it’s a good time to play your games?’ He scolds me.

‘It wouldn’t have been necessary had you spared five minutes to see me.’

‘That is no justification, you poisonous snake.’

He looks visibly annoyed now. I don’t blame him, I _might_ have gone overboard and a simple ambush at the ICA’s entrance hall could have been easier. And cheaper. And less stroke-inducing for our troops. But we might as well give them some use, since we’re still in war footing.

I drop my playful facade and tense up. Wasting this opportunity because of my arrogance and having this all be in vain would be stupid. ‘We have to talk, Arthur.’

He lifts his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. The Grande Warden, contrary to what he was initially trying to show, is an open book around those he trusts. ‘Out with it.’

‘Lord Day is stepping down.’

‘…and?’

‘The Emperor wants you to take his seat in the next meeting of the Council.’

He freezes for a moment, as if processing the information. Then his expression shifts and I know his answer before he blurts it.

‘No.’

‘Arth-’

‘The Imperial Council is nearly powerless and my presence in it would do nothing. The Emperor has plenty of allies to appoint to it.’

‘The Emperor is fighting an uphill battle and he needs all the help he can get.’ I argue. He isn’t wrong in saying the Council on its own is little more than an advisory body, but that doesn’t mean its members aren’t some of the most powerful people in the country. 

‘As Grand Warden I am a member of the Government already. My skills are best used making sure the Academy aids the reconstruction process as much as possible, not wasting time with political squabbles.’ He counters.

It seems I have my own uphill battle to fight. ‘Come,’ I tell him. ‘This isn’t the proper place.’

* * *

We both head to our motorcades, him joining me in my own car along with Alex.

‘To the Imperial Palace.’ I tell the driver.

‘So, tell me,’ Arthur starts.’ Why is my presence in the Council so needed?’

‘I suppose you’ve been watching the news?’ I ask.

‘Yes I do know the Imperial family has a new dog.’

‘Well… wait, what in Lunae’s name-’

‘Of course I’ve been watching the news, what do you think? You came here to talk to me about Vixtus, didn’t you?’ It’s his turn to smirk now. ‘You think you’re the only one that can predict people?’

‘I…’ He got me, but I’m not surprised. ‘It’s to be expected of one of the Big Six. Alex?’

She nods and reaches for her folder, taking out a few papers from it and handing them to him. ‘You should read this, sir.’

He takes them and pushes his glasses up. His unreadable expression has also returned.

‘As I’m sure you’re aware,’ Alex says. ‘It’s been five days since twenty-five thousand Micalian troops crossed the Vixtusi border in order to aid the Constitutional Front.’

‘Yes, that’s…,’ He pauses to continue reading. ‘That’s information that’s been in the public’s hands for five days.’

‘Correct, sir,’ She continues. ‘But we’ve been aware of their intentions long before that, as you also know.’

He nods. ‘And?’

‘And the Efians aren’t too happy about it. Desroches and his generals have been meeting more often that usual. You can smell the Ercusians’ sweat from here too.’ I answer. Ther Ercusian Army mostly avoided the intervention in Vixtus for that reason.

‘I don’t see how that’s related to the ICA or the report you just gave me.’

‘It isn’t, these are just details you’ll hear in the next Cabinet meeting.’ I say. ‘But what Alex is about to say is.’

‘Yes, uh..’ She shuffles a few papers around. ‘It’s only been five days since the Micalian invasion, but we’ve already heard of several conflicts between their troops and supernatural anomalies.’

‘Seven of them, to be precise.’ I add.

‘As many as there were the last ten years before the War.’ He says, handing the report back to Alex. ‘That’s rather concerning.’

‘It’s not just that, sir.’ She says. ‘Prince William’s tour is on schedule and he’s reached Archus.’

‘I’m aware.’

‘Well, sir… a few hours after the start of the visit, the Prince and his delegation were hushed into a room with Antonov and a General from the ‘O’ Agency.

‘They said their observers have also been coordinating United Front efforts against the anomalies. They also said that since the dissolution of Octonia, they’ve had dozens of containment failures.’

‘You believe they’re related to our own outbreaks?’ He asks.

‘We do, sir. And it’s not just that.’

‘Hm?’

‘They’re struggling, Arthur.’ I say. ‘The ‘O’ Agency has been a mess since Octonia fell and it won’t be long until the Micalians get bogged down fighting the Unionists and the anomalies.’

The Micalian Army prepared itself to fight an insurgency, not monsters, and all post-Octonian republics had been reluctant to give free will to one of its former instituitions, leaving ‘O’’s structure in tatters.

‘I see.’ Is his short response, though it carried all the insight it needed.

Repeating the gesture he’d done earlier, Arthur lifts his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose.

‘You want me in the Council in order to ease sending ICA aid their way, right?’

Alex and I nod in unison.

‘We’ve also been facing an increased amount of outbreaks and events, but… it’s true we’re much more prepared to handle them. I’ll see what can be done.’

‘We’ve arrived, Minister.’ The driver interrupts.

‘Yes, thank you.’ I say, not bothering to wait for the door to be opened by someone else. ‘Nieson and Byrne are here already, we can discuss this in detail once we’re inside.’ With Young in, we might be able to avoid a catastrophe. 

Our very long battle has finally begun.


	2. William I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan's future is decided. William's conflicted.

“Wiiiill.”

He looks at the source of the drawn out whine.

“What?”

“I’m bored.”

Of course he’s bored. Nathan’s main complaint is being bored, except during the time he wastes playing games or watching television. Well, not quite wasting, William thinks, they’re just very different types of people and he doesn’t like him any less because of it.

It doesn’t mean he reads as much as he should though. He should definitely read more.

They were both sitting, William in front of him to try and help with keeping Nathan more focused on his books and less focused on.. everything else. Not that William is much better, mind you, his time management skills just _exist_.

“Keep studying.” He says.

“But I don’t wanna!” Nathan whines again.

“Do you want to bomb the test a second time?”

Nathan pouts. He’s doing this for his own good. “Just study a little bit more. After this we can go out.”

‘Yay!’ He smiles sheepishly. That’s a quick change of mood. “Where are we goin’?”

“I’m not sure. A place where people won’t be bothered by the guards.”

He nods and goes back to his textbook. “Why do ya’ still have them? The war’s over now and I thought only your dad needed bodyguards.”

William shrugs. “He said he wanted me to keep them a while longer, you get used to it. I’ve spent more time with them than without them anyway.”

“Lack of privacy doesn’t bother ya’?”

“No. Study.”

He smiles again.

* * *

Nathan closes his textook. “Okay, I’m good.”

“Let’s go?”

“Yeah, let me just get a jacket.”

He gets up from his chair and enters his room. This is a good time as any, William thinks.

“Hey, Nathan?”

“Yeah?” He hears coming from the room along with lots of ruffling and a few swears. He doesn’t tidy his room enough times, either. He really doesn’t.

“Do you, uh- feel like having dinner at my house?”

If this was texting, he’d have thrown his phone at the wall in this moment.

“Yeah, sure, just lemme- wait, what?”

Nathan comes out of his room, lips slightly apart. Isn’t this an overreaction? “Your house?”

“Yes,” William answers, lifting a brow. “My house. Why is your shirt unbottoned?”

“Your house as in the Palace?” He asks again.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the only one I have here. Answer my question.

“I’m changin’ my clothes, don’t feel like wearin’ them.” He says. 

Simple enough. The strip session debacle wasn’t going to repeat itself, thankfully. When did Nathan’s skin get so pale? 

“Are ya’ sure it’s fine? I mean, it’s the Palace.”

He sits down in front of him again and he still doesn’t button up his shirt. The stripping thing couldn’t repeat itself. William would die, he was certain of it.

“It’s a house like any other? Just slightly bigger and with guards and government employees everywhere.”

“That makes it a special house, tho’. Is your dad fine with me goin’ there?”

William nods. “I’m pretty sure he was the one who asked- the one who wanted me to invite you.”

“Oh.” He furrows his brows. “I won’t go if you don’t wanna.”

“What? I want you to go. I mean, I didn’t ask you before because I was afraid of making you feel awkward. My dad didn’t ask earlier because he doesn’t doesn’t know your parents either.”

He chuckles. “I’m pretty sure my parents like ya’ better than me at this point.”

“Don’t say that.”

Nathan waves his hands in the air. “Easy Highness, ya’ know I’m jokin’.”

“Still. You know they love you more than anything else.” He says.

“Yeah, I know.”

 _Do you really?_ , William thinks. It’s best if he doesn’t push the subject further. 

“Don’t worry about my parents, tho’.” He says. “They don’t have any problems with ya’ dad.”

William smiles faintly. “I’m glad.”

He knows many people got their lives destroyed by the War. Blaming politicians for it is only natural, no matter if they tried to stop it or were happy to see it happen. William had no way to tell if Nathan’s parents really liked him or were kind out of respect.

“So, you’ll go?”

“Yeah, it’s a date!”

“Nathan.”

“Hey!” You told me I couldn’t flirt with you in public because people could get the wrong idea, my house is fair game!” He whines.

“Fine, just.. don’t do it in public. I don’t need to hear people saying the Prince is dating his best friend when he’s not.”

“It ain’t uncomfortable, is it?” He asks. “I can stop.”

“No, it’s.. I don’t want you to start being harassed by the media. My family might escape them but our friends don’t. If you think the guards are bad for your privacy try the camera hounds.”

“Yeah,” Nathan chuckles. “I’ve heard stories. Byrne’s drinkin’ habits are fun to read about at 2 AM.”

“I’m.. at least your reading something, I guess. Can you button up your shirt or just take the damn thing off?”

“Why,” He smirks. “Don’t like my after-sex look?”

William brings his hands up to cover his face. For shame, Nathan. “See, this is what I mean.”

“Well,” He starts. “If we were actually fuckin’, my clothes wouldn’t be the most obvious sign.”

Oh no.

William uncovers his face. Lips in a straight line, blank eyes looking past him, his voice tone neutral and icy. “If we were fucking, I wouldn’t be the sore one. Get dressed.”

Nathan raises both his eyebrows, mouth wide open, trying to process what he just heard. If being flustered wasn’t enough, the blush across his cheeks couldn’t be more obvious.

“I- yeah, I’ll- change clothes, right.” He blurts, trying to rush to his room and undress himself at the same time. He’d be quicker doing one thing at a time, but blundering into success is one of the things that makes him Nathan.

William takes advantage of his friend’s absence to get up as well and stretch his legs. He looks around, not seeing many unfamiliarities in what’s basically become his second home.

It’s tiny and cluttered and you can’t run laps around it but it has the homey feeling he’s desperately tried to give his room several times before, to no avail.

Nathan’s right about one thing, the Palace feels like anything but a house. It’s more of a fortress actually - you feel like nothing could get you inside its tall, wide walls but you feel no comfort or warmth when you’re at peace. No matter how much refurbishing and renovating is done.

Something, however, manages to draw his attention. William might’ve been too focused on Nathan to notice the pamphlet lying on top of his friend’s kitchen counter. 

They’re long past the ‘I don’t want to intrude stage of their friendship’, so William just takes it.

He recognizes it as one of the VSS’s brochures and wow, he had no idea their agents earned this much money. Or is it too few? He doesn’t really have a good grasp on salaries, all he did was count the digits and assume if there’s five or more, it’s good.

He keeps reading, listing the requirements, the benefits and the offers the VSS has. So taht’s what he’s planning to do once high school is over in a few months, huh?

The VSS isn’t a bad choice all things considered. Good job security, good benefits and best of all - at least to some - a quick way to reach those who hold power. Assuming you survive getting shot at, the spy stuff, the political games their agents get stuck in and babysitting insufferable politicians, that is.

If there’s one thing the Imperial Guard has better than the Security Service, it’s that the Imperial Family doesn’t go out of its way to make work a living hell for its soldiers. They don’t get shot at any less, though.

He hears the lock cliking and shifts his attention to the front door, carefully placing the brochure back where he got it from.

A short, light-brown haired woman with a jovial, young look plastered all over her face walks in. 

“William, I was just thinkin’ about ya’!”

William slightly bows his head in deference. “Mrs. Kensington, it’s good to see you. Did the guards inconvenience you?”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “Of course not. Ya’ don’t need to be so stiff with me, either, I’ve seen the way you act around my son. I told ya’ to call me Rita, didn’t I?”

She approaches him and opens her arms, waiting for him to walk into her embrace, which he does with no hesitation.

Nathan’s mom was always extremely considerate of William, something shared by her son and husband alike. She wouldn’t hesitate to call him a second son, often worrying about his comfort as much as her biological son’s.

“Yes, Rita. Sorry.”

She steps back and smiles. “Don’t apologize, it’s fine.”

“‘s that my mom, Will?” He hears coming from Nathan’s room.

“Get ya’ ass movin, Nate. Don’t keep the boy waitin’.” She answers for him. Setting down her keys and her bag, she also notices the brochure. Then, she looks back to William. “Did ya’ notice?”

He nods, to which she huffs.

“It’s what he wants. I can’t keep that one under my wing forever. Don’t know where he’d be without ya’ lookin’ over him either.”

“I’m the one being looked over, Rita.” He answers. It’s what he feels. “But I do my best.”

She gives him a much softer smile than usual, though just as kind. “i’m sure ya’ do. Just be sure ya’ take good care of yourself too, yeah?”

“Mhm, I have something to ask you.”

“Shoot, kiddo.”

“I’m pretty sure my dad’s the one behind this, but can Nathan have dinner at the Palace next week?” William asks.

“Do ya’ want him to?”

“I do, ma’am.”

“He’s 18 and so are ya’, I can’t stop ya’. But if ya’ asked and he said yes, then I approve. I’m surprised ya’ didn’t try askin’ sooner, to be honest.”

He smiles and shakes his head softly. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

She pats his shoulder lightly and reaches for her keys. “Sorry for the short visit, Will. It was nice to see ya’!” Her stay home was even shorter than usual, and she leaves as quickly as she came.

Just as she goes out the door, Nathan comes out of his room with a completely different outfit.

“Took you long enough.” William jabs at him, no malice in his tone. Nathan just smiles sheepishly at him. The resemblance between his and his mother’s is quite noticeable, though he did share a few of his father’s features.

“Sorry ‘bout that. She left?”

William nods.

“Probably has work or somethin’. Still feel like goin’ out or do yo wanna play somethin’ with me and chill?”

William quickly agrees to the proposal, his will to go out drained by the wait. Playing games with Nathan is time he doesn’t spend mulling over the decision he made, anyway.

They go into his room and it’s… surprisingly tidy. “Yo were cleaning instead of getting ready, weren’t you?”

It’s his turn to nod in response.

“So, what are you plannin’ to do once we’re done with?” Nathan asks as he boots up the console. “The remotes are over there, can ya’ get them?”

William takes the two from the desk. “Yeah, about that.. I’m leaving.”

Nathan stops. “Oh.”

He nearly drops them once he sees Nathan’s mood plummet. “It’s just for a few months, don’t worry. I’m going abroad to raise support for the Empire. I’ll get some experience with diplomacy this way, too.” He hands Nathan the remotes, who takes them.

“Yeah, sometimes.. I forget you’re the Prince. You’re comin’ back, tho?”

William smiles and kneels behind Nathan, hugging him and resting his chin on his head. Friends hug like this, right? Of course they do. “Like I said, it’s just for a few months. I’ll tell you more about it soon.”

“Mhm.” He hums. “Mario?”

“Mario.”

* * *

By the time William’s motorcade arrives at the Palace, the sun has set. He enters its halls and, as expected, there’s no cozy feeling to them. The safety of a fortress? Absolutely. The comfort of a home? Not even close.

William takes the familiar path to his room, greeting the people who bow as he walks by. To get to the Palace’s living quarters you first need to walk through the admnistrative wing, so saying you have to see half the employees whenever you want to go in or out isn’t an understatement. 

He starts thinking about what dinner’s going to be when-

“Will.”

Oh no. That’s his dad’s voice. Here it comes.

He nonchalantly turns around and stares at the man stalking his rear. “Your Majesty.”

Michael quickly grimaces. “I told you not to call me that.”

“It’s protocol.”

“I don’t care, just.. don’t.”

A slight smile tugs at the corner of William’s lips. It’s quite easy to make conversations with his dad uncomfortable, just treat him as a living god instead of a person.

“I think you’ll be happy to know I invited Nathan to come over next week.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You could’ve just asked me instead of sending Talendae to do your dirty work.”

Michael grins. “It’s easier this way. Walk with me, come.” He signals him to follow, which William does.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“I told him I was going abroad for a while too.”

“So you’re going ahead with your idea.”

William nods. “Do you have an issue with it?” He asks, trying to avoid a confrontational tone.

Michael shakes his head. “I think it’ll be good for you.” _And good for the Empire,_ William thinks, but leaves that thought unfinished.

His dad put the Empire first out of necessity, he must pull his weight.

“Are there any indications I should give the Chef?”

His lips straighten as he thinks. “If there’s a shade of green in it, chances are he won’t eat it.”

“Reminds me of someone I know.”

“Shut up, I’m past that phase.”

“Thankfully.” Michael breathes out. “How about we pass by the lake? Dine with me.”

Wiliam furrows his brows and closes his eyes. “No. I’m too busy.”

“Will-”

“I said no. We’re having dinner next week already.”

He’s still not willing to open up to Michael again. He doesn’t push any further, nor does he blame him. He never will. 


	3. Gabriel I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel awakens. Uriel welcomes her.

As I pass through the Halls and the large, luminescent door opens for me, I notice a radiant figure sitting across the room on the throne and another, less imposing in stature in front of it. Both of them sprout large wings from their backs, though the figure on the throne exhibits some magnificent angelic-white ones to match their radiance. I’m sure plenty of Humans have thought the same of my own, decades ago.

I approach the throne, the Third Spheres guarding it lowering their heads in respect and acknowledgement as I pass. The radiance smiles, not moving an inch on the throne, and the other kneels as I draw closer.

“Uriel, Ramiel.” I acknowledge them.

Ramiel is the first to reply. “Prince Gabriel, your presence honors the Halls.”

“I agree, Sister! It certainly brightens my day to see that your sleep cycle has ended.” Uriel complements his servant’s praise.

I maintain a blank expression on my face. You’ve become far too similar to the Humans, Uriel. “Leave us, all of you.”

The Third Spheres mutter nothing as they empty Uriel’s Throne room, Ramiel shortly following suit.

“He is bruised.” I say, succinctly.

Uriel just nods in response. “Indeed he is, Sister.”

“Care to tell my why one of our Lords is exhibiting combat injuries?”

“I fear our beloved Lord Ramiel got very, as the Humans say, _“into it”_ during a scuffle and paid for his hubris. Nothing that should concern you, dear Gabriel.” A shit-eating grin plasters his face. Disgusting.

Luciel would be at his throat by now. So would Michael. “Scuffle?”

“Several factions of the Humans in the Voltarean Isle are warring among each other, I sent Ramiel to give the ones the Dragon favors a hand.”

“The College of Princes endorsed this?”

He smiles. “You have barely awaken from your sleep cycle, dear Sister, and Michael has entered his. There’s no point in bothering him or poor Raphael with yet another factionalism in Humanity, is there?”

I’ve grown tired of standing and I’m in no mood to engage Uriel in another play of his. He’s the youngest and it shows, though decades ago he still managed to retain some seraphic decorum. His mannerisms, speech and actions just mimic a Human’s now.

“With me, I wish to see the Sun.” I say, turning my back to his throne. He eagerly stands from it and follows.

* * *

“Michael would have easily supported you against Raphael’s concerns.” I tell him.

Uriel nods. His Gardens in Starfalls had a beauty ours could never achieve. Meticulous and careful planning, atributes we’d never associate with him, allowed Uriel, on his own, to cultivate and groom an impressive collection of flora capable of overwhelming the senses of those who hadn’t had centuries to grow used to such… _explosive_ beauty. Just like his own beauty.

“I’m sure he would have, that is why I didn’t raise the issue in the last meeting of the College. Is our Brother known for subtlety, Gabriel?”

“He is not.” And Uriel has a point. Michael was the architect of the punitive expeditions that brought the Vampire Kingdom to their knees, one of the few recent examples of our alliance with Humanity being used.

“Indeed, he isn’t.” He stops to collect a bright, scarlet flower I can’t identify from a flowerbed near our path. Its blooming, bright petals nearly capture my attention, but they quickly become dull. They must be new additions to his Garden. He’s been active. “Oh, I have no doubt our Brother would raise a legion to aid the Human Emperor in Voltarea.

That is precisely why he entered his sleep cycle without ever being aware of Ramiel’s instructions.”

“Explain yourself.”

“To fully intervene in this Civil War among the Humans would compromise them, dear Sister. We’d be supporting a side and showing favor to the ones in Voltarea. Our alliance is to Humanity, _not_ to that Emperor.”

“Why intervene at all?”

“The artifacts. Their Emperor understands the dangers of using them. Who can say the other Humans do? Ramiel was offering no assistance to the Humans of Voltarea, he was keeping the artifacts safe, a task that requires subtlety. Michael has none.”

He is right. It is a bothersome action for a Prince to act of his own accord, but to bring Michael into this affair would be bringing the Seraphim to the Human war.

“I see.” I gesture for him to keep walking and not get distracted by his flowers. There’s much I still want to see before returning to my Halls.

I recognize most of the flora in his Garden. Once you’ve been collecting different flowers and plants for over 300 years, there’s only so much variety and novelty you can find. They all have their own beauty, but over the decades they soon become dull and lose their charm, their characteristics missing and becoming.. bland.

It’s happened to me as well. Those who considered me a rival to Michael’s, or even Luciel’s perfection soon saw me grow dull once he came along. Uriel truly is incomparable, to me, to Raphael, to any of our brothers and sisters. It’s only a matter of time until he eclipses our greatest. Or so I hope. Us Princes have grown dull, he’s our fresh air.

Uriel lightly skips ahead. The seraphic within him never lost the human taint. Perhaps his mother is why he understands them better. One might even say he favors them.

“Keep jumping and your toga won’t cover your balls.” I say. There’s no point in being so terribly bland all the time.

“Oho~ I’m sure there are plenty of eyes in the Garden that would thank me for the view.” He replies, mischief covering his eyes.

I glance at his direction and… “Is that a fawn?” And why is its fur purple? Has that idiot been experimenting aga-

My thoughts are interrupted by the massive gust of wind that nearly lifts me off my feet. A Prince’s wings, stretching and then beating with such strength trunks of decade-old trees could be twisted by the force they exert over them. Soon enough, the fawn was held by his arms, trashing around for a while before Uriel soothed it with words. I join him, though far more delicately, displacing just enough wind with my wings for a leap long enough to reach his place.

“We used to put down aberrations, not cultivate them, you know?” I mutter, trying not to agitate the animal again.

“You _did,_ Sister _._ My mother being a human led to some of our kin to consider me an abomination as well, back then. Would you have put me down, if given the chance?” He replies, no obvious shift in tone noticeable but the intent present.

My heart stops. Uriel despises senseless culling, his decision to intervene in the conflict between the Humans was highly irregular. My words were careless.

“Any Seraph that would harm you is little more than a beast, Uriel. Every Prince cherishes you, despite our.. scuffles.”

He chuckles. “I wish to believe that is true, too.”

But he doesn’t. When his mother passed, young for even a human, I did what I could to make him feel loved and I wanted to believe, then, that I’d succeeded. When the _other_ Human followed, he…

Where’s Luciel when I need him?

“Michael used to call _them_ that, too. Blood-sucking aberrations.”

“The Vampires were attacking Humanity, Uriel. We had to defend our allies.”

“Oh, I agree, Sister. I just believe our brother was far too eager to put them to the sword during the Second Punishing. The Second Spheres were bragging about an efficiency rate of… 70 per cent? They care about little more than their rates, do they not?”

I sigh.

“We will never see eye to eye in this, Brother.”

“No, we won’t. I suggest you change subjects, Gabriel.”

I limit myself to nodding as he releases the fawn back into the Gardens. They could considered woods by now.

“Any news from Luciel?”

He rises to his feet and shakes his head. “We’ve heard barely anything other than rumors during your sleep cycle.”

“My cycle lasted twenty years. He’d been away for three before that.”

“And he could very well come back in a few hours. Or he might continue travelling for the next hundred years. I think it’s the best decision he made in the two thousand years he’s been alive.”

I frown. Luciel may be many things, but he’s not the type to shirk duty. “If his sleep cycle is imminent, his powers may be weakened. He could be vulnerable or incapable of coming back.”

He shrugs. “Seraph Princes aren’t exactly subtle, it’s hard to miss us and I’m sure the Humans would assist his return if needed be. So would the Vampires, assuming they’re not bitter over Michael killing the Umbrian king anymore.”

We keep pacing through the Gardens. Luciel was Uriel’s favorite brother, could something have happened between them while I slept?

Or is he keeping secrets from me?


	4. Gabriel II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael enters the fray.

“The Humans, I have heard, often have the habit of saying their dead seem peaceful, as if they’re ‘sleeping’. I wonder if they got that from us.”

I observe Michael’s ornate casket. The see-through lid allows anyone to see him, though the Third Spheres guarding him aren’t awfully fond of any going near him, save for us Princes. It’s understandable, a Seraph Prince is most vulnerable during their sleep cycle.

“How long will this one last, Michael? I barely woke up in time to take after you.”

My last cycle lasted twenty-five years. We’ve registered cases of some lasting over one hundred. Each time I sleep, the only thought that crosses my mind is… who won’t be here anymore when I return?

“Were you afraid of allowing Uriel to stand on his own? Were you resisting it?”

Uriel is far younger than any other Prince, though we may have been underestimating his capacity to rule. He’s proven himself capable of outplaying us before, though I’m… worried about him. Something’s wrong.

“I’m not sure we’ll be able to let you rest peacefully for long, Brother.”

Not with Luciel missing. He never quite got over you stabbing him with your Spear, did he? You can’t blame our brother for that, Michael. Uriel is right in calling you rash, because you _were_ , up until he was born and you started acquiescing to his wishes and requests. Luciel was never able to be your voice of reason. Is that why he left? Uriel took over what he was trying to be and he lost his purpose? I hope he finds it soon, Brother, _truly._

* * *

I hear the doors to the Resting Hall open. I specifically asked not to be disturbed and the Third Sphere escorts would ensure that order was followed unless…

“He’s fallen into slumber, then?” The melodic, honeyed voice rings through the Halls, vibrating into my ears.

I turn. His wings are massive and their fire _burns_. A tactic used to intimidate used by a being whose mere presence is enough to leave you in silent awe. **Raphael**.

“He has.” I answer, blowing a large amount of air through my nose. I have already warned him about using his flaming wings indoors, I’d rather not have half a palace replaced again because he flailed around. “You, Uriel and I are the only ones that remain awake.”

He grins. “The next summons to the College will be amusing, then. Is Azrael coming?”

“Azrael hasn’t attended the College since the Dragon’s truce.” He knows that, this is just chitchat to him. Raphael hates politics and ruling, little interests him apart from his hobbies or studying other beings.

“I know, I know. Since there’s only three of us, I suppose he’d get over his fear of large groups.”

It seems Raphael isn’t over getting hit by Azrael six hundred years ago either, Michael. Luciel isn’t the only rancorous one. The comparison makes me smile, Raphael and him, Azrael and Luciel. They couldn’t be further apart from each other.

“Azrael is not the only one uninterested in the College. You do little else in it other than stoking the flames between Luciel and Michael.” I tell him. His grin doesn’t budge, he’s never been bothered by my slights.

“Heh, there is barely anything else to do in it. We all know you, Michael and Luciel are the most powerful of us Princes.”

Untrue. Raphael and Azrael can more than hold their own against us. So can Uriel. He’s just _uninterested_. “Uriel’s pedantry comes from you…”

“Uriel made things fun again.” He smiles. He knows he’s right. “But I suppose you will be taking the biggest decisions on your own with both of them gone, unless you plan to bring Uriel to the inner circle.”

“Our actions are ruled by the College.”

“You _are_ the College, Sister.”

“It is a _College_ , not a Crown. We are not humans, letting everyone’s wish to rule lead us into senseless division and infighting.” Luciel and Michael made sure we wouldn't follow their path.

“Has the thought of that being a blessing, not a curse crossed your mind? Perhaps our inertia over the centuries-”

“We are not inert. The Seraphs do not stand still, Raphael, they lie in wait for the inevitable. When _they_ return, we’ll be ready. All we can do is hope the Humans realize that in time to aid us.”

Raphael bows his head. “If that is what you believe, Sister.”


	5. Gabriel III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel and Uriel bond for the first time in decades.

I find him in his Gardens, in the same place we last met with what seems to be the same purple fawn we found before sitting on his lap. He’s caressing its fur which, though woolly, looks quite soft. 

I was surprised when Uriel showed me one of his.. sweaters that humans wear, given to him by his mother. It looked like it’d irritate your skin if it came in contact in it but was actually some of the most delicate fabric I’d ever touched, few of our synthetics could compare…

Something is off in him. His expression is blank, there’s no hint of his usually playful and cheerful manner within it and the way he pets the fawn looks mechanical. 

He does not seem to be _here_.

It’s hardly the first time I see him like this. They’re frequent, though not in public, ever since… It’s been over 200 years since it happened and he still dwells over it. 

“Uriel.”

The fawn sets off, back into the woods. It was not he only startled one however, as he jolts into his feet, turning around with widened eyes.

“Sister, it’s.. How nice of you to come.” He says, trying to reestablish some control over his reflexes and “return” his expressiveness to its regular state. A smile quickly draws across his face.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Did you not see? I was caressing my friend.” He answers.

“You consider that creation a friend, Brother?”

“I do and, from what I’ve heard, you met Raphael.”

Changing subjects. I’m unsure whether I should pursue our current one or not, Uriel is… a debacle whenever he enters this state. Considering his artificial creations friends, however, that’s something I hadn’t heard from him before. Could he be lonely?

“I have.” I choose not to push through this wall of his immediately. He must be cornered by himself, first. “His perspectives have not changed.”

“They haven’t changed in hundreds of years, were you expecting them to change in twenty or so?”

I shake my head. “It is still an enjoyable idea to muse, from time to time.”

“Was he always like this? I haven’t had much time to be with him lately, with the Garden and all.” He gestures around him. It becomes more beautiful each year it passes. I hope it outlasts us all.

A beautiful, yet unlikely wish to be fulfilled. I have found over the centuries things decay far faster than us Seraphs.

“Somewhat.” I reply curtly. “He has always been far more interested in his subjects and studies than governing or warring. I suppose it is a good thing one of us his.”

He nods in response. “Mhm. Brother’s findings have been quite useful in building this Garden.”

“Should you not name them?”

“Uriel’s Gardens doesn’t satisfy you?” He grins. “Given how much you compliment me, it would only be fair for me to name them after myself, no?”

That certainly is a very Uriel conclusion. I don’t like how far he’s turned this conversation. “Raphael would agree with you, I’m certain. But, why?”

Uriel tilts his head and his smiles fades slightly. Do not hide the blankness from me, Brother. You know you can’t. “Why what?” He is walking by now, running away from confrontation. I trail after him.

“You have been awfully meticulous with this whole Garden. Protective of it, too.”

“And?”

“I am asking why.”

“Seraphs aren’t above hobbies, this is just one. You paint, I tend the Gardens, what’s the difference?” His pace is quickening and he does not face me. I am not letting you run from this.

“Yes, but I do not devote military resources to protect my creations nor am I bringing a human to my bed every other day. You are, Brother. I am worried.” I plead, but he comes to a sudden halt. Not so far from us, his Halls could be seen. I had not gone that deep into the garden and it seems his mind was far more focused on escaping than on where it was escaping to. His deflections do not stop, however.

“You’re worried I’m an obsessed slut, Gabriel? ‘That it?”

His lingo’ is changing more and more into a human-like one. I can press him now - this is my chance to force him into speaking. Enough dancing.

“You know you won’t fill the void within you that way, do you not, Brother?” I counter.

“Huh?” His eyes widen and his mouth stands slightly ajar. My statement seems to have dumbfounded him.

“You try to keep your joyful facade up, it is almost as if you believe there is any genuineness in it yourself. As if, after what happened to them, you are still the same, pure and unadulterated child.

“It does not matter how many humans you fuck each day nor how many plants or animals you bring to your gardens. It does not matter how you try to achieve that impossibility, because _that_ is not the way, Uriel. It will not replace them and it most certainly will not bring them back.

“You lost your mother and your lover far before their time was due. I did my best to share your pain and grieve with you, all Princes did, but you must put it to rest and find closure, Uriel, _please_. Allow yourself to love and be loved again, by us, by yourself.” I plead.

I have monologued and he did no effort to interrupt, nothing to refute my arguments nor any snarky remarks to ease the tension in the air. Could I have pushed thro-

“Out.”

It’s the single word that comes out of his mouth. The blankness in his eyes is back and now I can see _it._ There’s nothing but seething anger trying to claw its way out of his body. Please, “Ur-”

“You _will_ leave the Gardens, Gabriel, or I will be the one that forces you out.”

What have I done?

* * *

I find Raphael in Michael’s halls, surrounded by his own works and notes. I wonder what he’s researching now?

“So, how did your visit to Uriel go?”

Of course he knows. How far does his knowledge of it goes, however, is anyone’s guess. “He is unwell.”

“Mhm,” He hums. “He has been for centuries, I know that as well as you do. But it has gotten worse since your last sleeping cycle, even Michael was worried.”

“I thought I had him,” I sit beside Raphael. His open attitude is uncharacteristic of him, but I am just glad at least my other present Brother will not be at my throat. There is no point in trying to push through something and risk destroying it all again. I rest my head on the palm of my hand. I am so tired and there are so many things to be done. “I thought I was finally able to push through that… thing of his. Where did I fail, Raphael?”

He purses his lips for a short while, but they quickly form a straight, thin line across his face, as if he’s lost deep in thought. “You have always been the worst of us at reading emotions, even worse than Michael. It is a weakness, for those that care so much.”

It is the first time someone has said such a thing to me. It might have been the kindest act I have experienced in centuries. “He refuses to heal.”

“He refuses to heal,” He repeats, musing over the meaning of my words. “So he does not. He accepts the need of healing and he does. Humans have been writing fascinating articles and conclusions on the study of their psyche for the past two centuries. Uriel’s case is breathtaking, from a scientific perspective.”

“That helps us how?”

“It teaches us how to heal, Gabriel. The first step is accepting the need of it, which he hasn’t, so he does not.”

“How do we make him accept it, then?”

He smiles slightly, as if he has just heard the result of a child’s wonderment. “That was your mistake, Sister. We cannot force Uriel to do what Uriel does not want or see the need of doing. We can just hope things push him in the proper direction and he is enlightened by circumstance.”

“Stand idle, then?”

“Yes, Sister. Stand idle, as us Seraphs have done the past millennia.” He smiles, as if he’s trying to irk a reaction of me. Is this your way of cheering me up, Raphael?

“Do not leave, Brother. You are needed.”

“Oh, I know. That is why I came here in the first place.”


	6. William II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William's debut abroad.

A few weeks after Nathan’s… ‘visit’ to the Palace my tour starts. Dad looked overjoyed by me bringing him over, though I haven’t figured out if he really likes Nathan or the _thought_ of Nathan - maybe I’m taking too much credit away from him.

I wasn’t able to tell Nathan the truth, but perceptive as he is he probably realized it as soon as I did. With the trip, college and his whole VSS plans, chances are we won’t be able to see much of each other.

He still lingers in my thoughts, from time to time. Driving him into a corner of my mind just because I’m searching for my call is needlessly cruel to him and I both.

I need to focus on the task at hand for now, however, and that’s the Republic of Lisjev, one of our allies ( _at least for now_ , Lucian said).

Lisjev is _the_ great power of our era, a status they achieved after Octonia imploded and will stop at nothing to consolidate. Our visit means to ensure they don’t sideline us in the process and to show, despite everything, the Empire can still stand on its own feet.

A small army of civil servants came with me on the trip - there’s no way in Oblivion a sane Government would send a rookie teenager by himself on a state visit. Neither would my dad, I have my mom to thank for convincing him it wasn’t too much of a risk to send me abroad, though she didn’t object to sending an _actual_ small army to keep me safe.

One of the people who followed me is Joseph, a new member of the Diplomatic Corps. Out of the group, he’s the one I relate to the most - inexperienced and young (relatively, everyone else is above forty), a freshman lacking the influence and sway the others, who will make themselves known in no time, have.

 _I am certain Joseph will have no qualms against bonding with you_ , I recall Talendae saying. It makes me wonder what kind of record they have together. Talendae’s… aloofness can make dealing with him a struggle.

“Hey,” I greet him curtly. Talendae’s to blame for getting my hopes up, if this goes wrong.

Joseph is startled out of his seat, as if he’d forgotten I was actually in the same room as he was. “Y-Your Highness, hello.” He lightly bows his head in deference and avoids staring directly at me, as people so often do.

“You don’t have to follow protocol so strictly, not in here at least.” I try to reassure him. Being treated like this just makes me feel.. inhuman. I don’t know how dad got used to it. “You can call me William, or Will.”

“Yes, si- Prince William.” He obeys, in a way, and releases what I hope is a sigh of relief. I’m sure he’ll get it right, with time.

“I’ve heard Talendae’s taken a liking to you.”

“H-huh?” He furrows his brows, not quite absorbing it at first, but in the following seconds I think my eyes catch a glimpse of the five stages of grief across his face. Maybe mentioning him wasn’t a great idea. “The-the bird? He’s mentioned me?”

I nod. Crises averted?

Joseph draws a long, sharp breath into his nose and then shoots in quick succession, “I don’t know what he told you, but I did _not_ spend the last few months skulking in my room.” It seems, however, all the confidence in his body is spent in this, as he turns around with a blank look on his face and hurries out of the cabin.

Mia Thompson, a respected adviser to the Prime Minister sent as the Government’s representative, grimaces while watching him go. “Kid’s been around for a few weeks and just broke, what, six rules of protocol just by turning his back to you?”

I glance at her from the corner of my eye. “People tend to get nervous around me, I guess.” She just grins in response, like she often does.

I’m not sure he was even aware of her, to be honest.

* * *

“We’ve arrived at Haven.” The captain announces from the speakers.

Haven, the Voltarean translation of… Przystań, Lisjev’s capital city bearing a name few of us are willing to butcher in front of its citizens.

I leave my quarters and greet Alex, Lucian’s right hand and likely the second most influential person in this ship, trailing behind Mia. 

“Your Highness.” She greets with her smoky voice. Smoky’s the most fitting word I’ve found to describe her in the short time we’ve spent together - though she’s a pleasantly contained person (just like Lucian, without the provocative teasing), you can’t help but feel there’s so much she won’t tell you, even if she could.

We head to the ship’s deck together, making chit-chat about the trip and seasickness. Several guards from the Protection Service are already waiting for us, along with Joseph. Mia arrives shortly after, but the rest of our group is nowhere in sight. “Mounter and Bladefell will join us later,” she says.

Alexander Mounter and Joshua Bladefell, General and Admiral of the Imperial Army and Imperial Navy, respectively, both heroes of the Civil War. They were sent as a formality and seemed far more interested in… cultural exchanges (their pleasant way of saying eat and drink until they enter a coma). Neither of them are too keen with busying themselves with affairs of state.

I reach the deck and take note of my surroundings - Lisjev is truly a whole different beast. Granted, we’ve settled at the docks of Haven, a capital city that sprawls further than any of our eyes can see and easily rivals Fiducea, or any other Imperial city, in size and population, though there’s a highly noticeable difference - the Empire’s always avoided building high and tall, Lisjev seems to have no qualms against it.

As if I wasn’t intimidated enough by the size and height of Haven, I fail to suppress my surprise once I glance at the welcoming committee that’s gathered by now. They mentioned a small gathering of people. I did _not_ expect half the Foreign Ministry’s motorized fleet and a battalion’s worth of troops just to take us to their President.

“Everything’s bigger in Lisjev, it seems.” Mia says, a playful grin plastered on her face as she eyes me. “And I _really_ mean everything, if you’re feeling adventurous. Do have some fun, William.” 

“Oh, he will.” Alex reassures her, her lips mimicking Mia’s own.

I know what they’re implying. I also know my dad more than likely played a hand in getting them to say that. This means Joseph should evidently be appointed my meat-shield for the remainder of the visit.

I walk down the ramp attached to the ship flanked by my own guards, with the rest of the people trailing behind me.

Ahead, I notice the one in charge of the other side - Wioletta Nowak, Lisjev’s Minister of Foreign Affairs.

Alex told me she was a History professor in the New Republican University before being called by President Beattie to join his Government. It’s said she was Octonia’s biggest headache in its final years.

Wioletta, quick on her feet, steps forth to greet us with her own people shadowing her. 

“Minister Nowak,” I say as I extend my hand, “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.”

“Please, Your Highness, Wiola,” She takes it and bows her head slightly in deference, ”Lisjev and Przystań are the ones honored by your visit, though the weather might not show it.”

“William, then.” I smile. She’s a lot more pleasant than her ambassador back home. I see Mia and Alex already at work while Joseph chats with our guards.

It doesn’t take long before we’re led to their motorcade which will take us to the Piotrowski building, the President’s residence. The police seem to have cleared the path for us.

Inside the car, she visibly relaxes and lets her guard down. I try not to trust the cynic that says she seems me as harmless and ask her, “You don’t enjoy the spotlight?”

She shakes her head. “Never have, I’m afraid.” She tilts her head with a soft expression, expecting me as well.

“Neither do I. Not since…” I trail off, but she gives me no time to finish.

“The Shallows?”

I nod. “You did your homework, ma’am.”

“Please, William, you can drop the formalities. Let the aides deal with the cutthroat politics and enjoy yourself.” Her expression soft and I can only assume her smile is genuine - not many people could fake empathy that well.

“I suppose Beattie won’t be as kind?”

“The President will shake your hand and smile. You’ll have more than enough time to deal with politics soon enough.”

I hum in response. “I didn’t think the Shallows would travel this far.”

“It travelled across the world,” She answers, reaching for the water bottle near the car door, “Though being in academia back then, I know a few more details than most. I’m sorry you had to go through it.”

A grimace tugs at my lips but I hold it off while avoiding her gaze - I avoid this topic as much as I can, but I’m sure she has no ill will in it. 

Wiola glances outside and lightly lifts her brows. “That was fast. We’re nearly there.”

“Should I expect to greet you as President the next time I see you?” I ask her.

This brings a chuckle out of her which slices through the slightly tense ambience that had taken a hold of the car. “Beattie’s final term is almost over, isn’t it?” She grins lightly, “Maybe, maybe not.”

The car grinds to a halt. “This is it,” she says.

We both leave the car with the others mirroring us. The first thing I notice is that the Piotrowski building is surprisingly… humble. Nothing really screams presidential about the place.

Mia quickly rushes beside me and adds, “Lisjev has _one_ small thing, what I said still stands.”

I side-eyed her. “I assume you’re done with politicking?”

She nods and grins, her joviality managing to hide away her true age. “Alex is churning out the details, but it’s time to have some fun once we’re out of here.”

Wiola, who’d gone ahead without us, return from the inside and motions for us to enter the building. “He’s waiting.”

I walk inside with Mia, Joseph, Wiola and a few of our guards, the rest sticking with Alex and the other Lisjevians.

The interior, though carefully decorated and furnished, maintains a feeling of simplicity and utilitarianism, with even the President’s security blending into the surroundings. Nothing seems out of place or misaligned.

A man I assume is some sort of aide leads me down a hallway adorned with portraits to an office of modest size. "Prince William of Voltarea, sir.” He announces as he opens the door and bows his head, clearing my way.

“Your Highness.” Beattie greets me as I walk in. The President’s figure is surprising - an elderly, medium-height man with graying short hair and a stout figure. I’d expect him to be my grandfather, not the President of a superpower.

I’m the one who steps forward this time, Beattie establishing himself as the one to approach and not the one who approaches - a small show of force I’d been advised to ignore by Alex on the ship. 

“President Beattie.” I nod. His smile, unlike Wiola’s, does not reach his eyes.

“Minister Nowak was eager to give you a Prince’s welcome. My apologies if my residence pales in comparison to her efforts.” He says. 

“The Minister has treated me well, sir.” I reply.

“Hm.” He hums. “I know your visit’s short but I hope you enjoy your time here. We’ll have a short photo-op for official purposes and I’ll let you go on your way.”

Beattie gets up and straightens himself, walking out of the office and motions for me to follow him. The President and his staff, unlike the Minister’s, seem to be a lot more eager to keep me behind them, it seems. This better not take long.


	7. William III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William explores.

I look at my watch and notice it reads 16:46. It should be 19:46 by now, then. Joseph’s sitting by my room’s squared-table, drinking the lemon-flavored Highball the Emerald Hotel provided him. So far, their treatment exceeds any expectations I might have had.

I overhear Alex talking as she holds her phone, “Yes, sir. The visit has so far gone without incident and the Lisjevians are open to us. Their treatment has been…”, she looks at Joseph’s near-drooling expression, “Phenomenal. I will, sir.”, and hangs up.

She grins at me when she notices my staring, “Peeking’s rude, you know.” and I raise an eyebrow at her, which earns me a frustrated sigh. “Not to insult their hospitality or anything, but I’m getting tired of being indoors. Feel like meeting the locals, William?”

Dealing with crowds isn’t my idea of fun, but it does beat being led everywhere the whole visit. I nod and head to Joseph, letting a slight smile tug at the corner of my lips. “Sober?”

He flinches and nearly spits out his drink, taking to his feet in a rather impressive time.

“Yes,” he fixes his throat, “Sir, I am.”

“The Prince and I are going out sightseeing, are you staying or coming?” Alex asks and reaches for her jacket. I should probably do the same. 

“I’ll join you.” He answers her and unlocks the door to the room, notifying the guards. “We’re going out, round up who you see fit.”

One of them nods and walks off. I hope they go for a small escort, we’ll be too obvious if we walk around with a small army following us.

* * *

My hopes were met as a small group of four guards came with us, the rest staying at the Emerald with Mia and the others. We wound up walking with nowhere in particular in mind and found ourselves in a narrower street with some sort of festival, not different from the ones in the Empire’s older cities.

The would-be dark alley is tinged by the yellow and fiery light of the lamps hanging from poles. Grandparents and parents carrying kids on their backs approach stands with games and treats containing far more sugar than it should be allowed.

I spot Joseph at a slightly wider area the locals used to set up a few tables and stools for people to sit on, which he promptly made use of to stay with a creamy, sweet-looking drink I couldn’t recognize. Alex is enjoying herself talking to a rather attractive man in his late twenties who seems to be enamored by her, listening to every word she says with a soft smile. Miles and Porter, two of the guards whose names I took an effort to learn stayed with me and the others watched over the area.

A small girl runs into my legs and hugs them and as she looks up her eyes widen. Miles and Porter seem indifferent to the act once I grin at her and wave at her, which sets her off running again.

This type of freedom is a privilege I’m rarely granted, with no reverence and observation everywhere I set foot in. Ever since the Gazer’s attack, my father’s been obsessed with guaranteeing my safety, a paranoia that hasn’t been lightened the slightest by the War. It took a lot of negotiating for him to even toy with the idea of sending me abroad.

I approach a stand manned by a friendly-looking woman and find the girl cozying up near her legs, likely trying to keep the cold that failed to bother her in our first meeting. She whispers something into her mother’s ear, whose corners of her lips are curled upwards by the bemusing thoughts that cross her mind before telling her, “Why don’t you ask him?”.

My glance shifts between the two while I wait for the question that seems to have gotten lost along the way of shyness and when no sign of it arrives, I lightly lift an eyebrow at the woman and tug the corner of my lip into an amused smile.

“He does look a lot like the Prince we saw on the TV earlier. William, wasn’t it?” Her expression doesn’t shift, but mine falters a bit. I nod and wait for the predictable.

The girl flashes me a huge smile and hear beaming seems to drive the cold away, her brooding replaced by a focused jump at the mother’s arms. “Give it to him! Give it to him!”

She hands me a blue-tinged, hardened sweet which I take into my hands are look at. The little girl’s anticipation is clear in her eyes.

“It’s on her. We call it a _suspiro_.” The mother says.

I try not to breathe too deeply as I bite into it, absurd considering its lack of a odor, and whatever expectations I didn’t have disappear. It’s far too sweet for my taste and it seems to be made of nothing but airy, colored sugar which has been ground into a thin flour, baked and dried. Desserts in the Empire often mirrored its ambiance - sour and predictable, nothing like the sugar-coated cuisine and patisserie the Lisjevians seem to be so fond of in their festival.

All these thoughts remain so, to release them would be needlessly cruel. These are nothing more than two kind people showing a guest noble hospitality. Scorning their feelings due to some arrogant sense of aristocratic entitlement would cause worthless damage.

I smile at them. “It’s good. Thank you both for your kindness.”

They return my favor and nod. “It was nothing, Prince.”

I ask Miles, who’s never left my side so far, if we can go deeper into the festival, which earns no objection from him, likely because of his own curiosity to explore. Porter’s been keeping a healthier distance from us, glaring at everything through his smoked glasses like an eagle. Alex and Joseph show no interest in moving forward, content with their choices.

But I do. I’m not wasting this chance to learn as much as I’m able. We plunge into the crowd and through the stands, with so many things happening at once any would have trouble keeping up. I don’t know how long it takes us to get out of the festival’s center but it feels like a well-spent eternity, which finally ends as we cross the street into a less busy alleyway.

My rhythm grinds into a halt once I reach the entrance of an old looking pub. I take a quick look at Miles and lift a brow, earning a side-eye and a sigh as a response. “You won’t take no for an answer, will you?”

“Nope,” and I walk inside.

It doesn’t take long for a Luna cat, with an uncommon ashen fur coat and red eyes, to run up to me and I feel its psychic imprinting.

_AREN’T YOU A BIT TOO YOUNG TO DRINK, PEA-BRAIN?_

“Don’t mind him, young man. Come in.” An older man, who I assume is the bar’s owner, behind the counter calls me out. “He gets roused up easily.”

_THE ONLY THING THAT ROUSES ME UP IS AMASSING WEALTH, OLD ONE. THIS ONE WILL CONTRIBUTE TO OUR PROFITS._

Well, at least he’s honest about his intentions.

_I HAVE AS MUCH REASON TO HIDE THEM AS YOU HAVE THE ABILITY TO HIDE YOUR THOUGHTS FROM ME._

“He’ll get off your back soon enough and his heart is pure, I assure you. Take a seat anywhere you’d like, I’ll get right to you.” The bar owner tells me and I do as he says. I pick a table by the corner and the Luna follows me to it. 

_YOU LOOK TOO YOUNG TO DRINK BUT I WILL NOT AMASS WEALTH UNLESS I SERVE YOU. I AM HAVING AN ETHICAL DEBACLE._

“Will you tell me your name, at least?” I ask.

_ARGENTUM._

Silver. How fitting.

_I HEARD THAT._

“I know.”

I’m not surprised there are Luna Cats here. These psychic, dog-sized cats spread themselves across the whole world. Their intelligence can easily rival ours, at least sometimes, and they’re one of the more iconic supernatural anomalies that integrated seamlessly in human societies. I wish the Gazer had done it too, sometimes.

_THE OTHER PATRONS NEED ATTENDING. SPEND YOUR MONEY WELL, PEA-BRAIN._

Argentum sets off to another table, his fuzzy, ash-looking fur flowing gracefully with his movements. He chooses to stay imprinted on me, as I can still hear him talking to the other customers.

_WHAT IS IT, BALD RAT? THEY’LL BRING YOU MORE BREAD IN A MINUTE._

I think he truly has a future in customer service.

Miles stays by the entrance to oversee the whole bar, which could hardly be considered crowded - only half a dozen people spread by the tables and the bar counter could be counted, each stuck in their own mental space with their own thoughts at hand. Contrasting this with Lunae’s Corner, which is usually stuffed to the brim and hard to breathe in, makes quite a contrast.

Speaking of Lunae, I wonder what kind of divines they worship here. The dragon Makae, the central figure of our Cult, has widespread reverence, though it varies from worship to respect and recognition. The thunderous falcon Talendae, our family’s patron and Lord of Time, Space and Order, is mostly restricted to the Voltarean part of our Empire. As far as I know, Lunae and Sandae aren’t worshiped or even revered abroad. 

The old barman finally approaches me, I notice his name - Tobiasz - is sewn into his vest.

“I’m sorry about Argentum. I’ve asked him to be kinder to our custumers, but his heart holds no malice when he speaks. I’m sure you know how Lunas are, Your Highness.” He starts. He might be the first Lisjevian commoner to address me as Highness since the visit started.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m surprised you speak Vulgar Northern so well, sir.” I tell him, and it’s true. His accent is slightly off, as if he’s not from Voltarea or any of the Kingdoms and our isles, but it’s perfectly understandable.

“I lived in the Twin Isles for many years, Highness. Everyone in their Commonwealth looks upon the Empire with fond eyes. What is it that you wish?”

Now that he asks me about it, I’m not sure. Argentum threw me off. Something light would be best. “How about a Tall Isle, from the Twins?”

“Good choice for any occasion, I’ll bring it to you in a moment.” The barkeep flashes me a smile enhanced by a grizzled mustache - not too different from his Luna’s fur.

Being treated like a member of the imperial family is hardly as refreshing as that drink will be. I was almost starting to entertain the idea I’d be able to escape it sometimes, but it seems even in an alley pub I can’t escape it.

"Mind if I sit with you, young man?"

I turn my face as the inquirer, a man that could hardly be over his early-thirties, motions to the chair in front of me. I can see Porter signaling Miles but I call them both off with a discrete hand wave, earning a frustrated huff from Porter. "Of course, at your pleasure."

He pulls the chair, sits, and twitches the corners of his lips into an awkward grin. "I suppose you're Lisjev's star of the day, Prince William."

I nod. "I am. And you are?"

"My name isn't important in the grand scheme of things. All you need to know is that I've been watching you all for a long time, young one."

How odd. People usually aren't this bold with me. They're usually not as openly condescending either.

"I'll.. accept that. What brings you to my table?" I ask. Could he be one of Beattie's agents? Treating him poorly will have repercussions.

"Nothing in particular. I just felt like having a chat with you." He answers. Everything about him seems awkward - the grin, the way he speaks, the way his eyes occasionally drift to the right corner, as if he's keeping tabs on Miles and Porter, just as they are keeping tabs on him. "About you and your father, in particular."

"My d- the Emperor?" How could Beattie's agents be so straight to the point?

"Yep, the one and only Emperor Michael."

We're interrupted by Tobiasz arriving with my Tall Isle. "Here it is, Your Highness." He notices the man in front of me. "Does your companion wish for anything, Highness?"

The stranger shakes his head.

"We're both fine, sir, thank you." I answer.

"If there is anything else you require or anyone bothering you, you need but to ask, Highness." Tobiasz states, lightly bowing his head. "With your permission."

With the old barkeep gone, my attention returns to him. "What of him?"

"Well," The man starts. "You see, William, I'm an investigator of sorts. My investigations have me talk to all sorts of people and.. others, just like you and I are doing right now, see? Sometimes, my endeavors force me to talk to really unpleasant people and to uncover things just as unpleasant as they are, if not even more. And recently, I had a wonderful a wonderful conversation with a mutual acquaintance of ours. He told me a lot of interesting things about you."

Beattie's agents wouldn't be so direct. "You mean my father?" I knew he'd send more people to keep tabs on me, the whole state apparatus wouldn't be enough.

"Oh no, far from it. You shouldn't go straight to assuming Michael's the source of all your troubles, young one. As wonderful as the conversation might have been, that one's a real nasty piece of work. Quite the messy eater, too."

What? Is he toying with me? "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I follow."

His grin, in some way, forces itself even more. "I know about the scars, William. All of them. Perks of being an investigator, see?"

I start to regret waving Porter and Miles off, but do my best not to look uncomfortable. I reach for my drink and I can see the tips of my fingers trembling slightly, a hint of something worse developing.

"No need to be scared, young man. Like I said, I only want to have a chat about you and your father." His grin falters slightly, as if he's become aware of how eerie it looks. "You're sharp, we both know I'm talking about the Gazer. He left some nasty marks on you, but Talendae's response more than made up for them, I'd say."

I place the Tall Isle back on the table, inadvertently having taken a sip far bigger than I should have, with the liquid burning the back of my throat and forcing me to try and keep myself from coughing. After letting a breath out, "What of the Red Gazer?"

"Fine and dandy, I suppose. Not what I'd call pleasant company, you've been far better in that regard." He answers bluntly, talking of the monster as if he's talking about any unremarkable human he'd picked off the street. "But he did blurt out some details I thought would interest you."

"Details?"

The stranger nods. "Details. About the Civil War in your country. Michael seems like the type that would shield you from the darker side of governing for as long as he could and so does your mother. I suppose he never told you the Gazer, if directed at someone, can be used as a weapon, did he?" It's convenient, the way some of his enemies just disappeared, isn't it?"

I know of the dirtier things the Crown and the Government involve themselves in. That they'd assassinate traitors as an attempt to prevent the War from starting or to finish it faster is no surprise, as depressing as it may be - it was one of the burdens they had placed on themselves to keep the Empire together and safe. But they would never resort to using something as vile as... it. Unless...

"What do you want?" I ask, trying to steel my resolve. I place my hands on my lap and intertwine my fingers to try and stop the now too-visible trembling.

"To shed light on things and make the truth come out. It's what I always want"

"Which is?"

"That the Voltarean Empire made an agreement with the Gazer and they broke it. That's why the tried to kill you, which wound up earning him a near-death beatdown from Talendae." He backs away from the table, getting ready to rise from his seat.

They had to be desperate. Everyone knew what War would mean. If making a deal with the Gazer meant stopping it, maybe even I wouldn't be above it. I can't judge them, I wasn't in their place. "Was it Caldwell?"

The stranger turns around, not bothering to stop walking away to answer me. "Not really. I suppose your usual assumption wouldn't be far from the mark in this case."

"Wai-" I try to call out to him, but I stop once my voice cracks. I'm sweating. My hands are trembling too much. It's too loud. 

* * *

It takes me over a quarter of an hour to calm myself down. By now, only Miles, Porter, Tobiasz, Argentum, two other patrons and I are still at the bar.

I ask Porter to pay Tobiasz and include a generous tip, thanking the man for bringing me a bit of home in a foreign country. We leave the bar and head outside, where most of the people have cleared off by now.

Emotions had taken a hold of me. I have no reason to believe whatever that stranger said, the Empire would never deal with such a monster. My dad wouldn't.

We start walking back the way we came from. With so few people in the street, there's no reason why we can't just walk back to the Emerald Hotel and let me explore more of Lisjev's capital while we're at it.

As I stop at a red sign on a crossing, I feel Porter pull me near him and notice his frown as he talks to whoever it is on the phone. Miles is publicly branding his pistol with his back turned to us, covering the rear.

"Get the evac here, now!"


	8. Lucian II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concurrently, at Voltarea's capital of Fiducea.

“Yes, sir. The visit has so far gone without incident and the Lisjevians are open to us.” Alex replies. I mind the hours on my phone, 16:46. Ever since I took up the Ministry of State Security in Nieson’s Government, minding them has become an essential part of my life. 

“And how have they been treating you? I suppose they didn’t send to to some dog house?” I ask, half-playfulness in my tone.

“Their treatment has been...,” she pauses. “Phenomenal.”

I nod and smile. “Good, don’t forget to have some fun while you’re there and try to bring William with you. It’s good for him. Talk to you soon”

“I will, sir.” She replies and hangs up.

She should enjoy whatever free time she manages to have, Gods know I’ve been robbing her of much of it. “How far are we, Kite?”

“We're arriving at Senator Martin's house now, sir.” My driver answers. Martin shouldn't hold me up for long I assume, this really needs to be quick. T

The lead car pulls over by the sidewalk, with us and the tail one quickly following suit. As a Minister you'd hardly have more than an occasional driver, but the War forced most of us to travel with three cars packed to the brim with guards armed to the teeth and, though it's over, I didn't believe lifting that requirement to be wise yet. As it turns out, do as I say doesn't work that well when most people you're forcing your measures on stand on equal footing or actually outrank you. Convincing Nieson not to ditch his escort _did_ take quite the effort.

Only one of the agents accompanies me, Kite, once we're stopped at Martin's house. Though leader of the second largest party in the Senate, and a Pachemary at that, Martin always preferred living in the quieter, more modest suburbs in a colonial-style house that'd be better suited for a high middle-class man. His own bodyguards, two, politely bow their heads in deference as I approach and he's already waiting for me at the door, a wide grin slashing his face and arms open for a hug. He'd almost make me believe this was humility.

"Cousin Martin! This whole place almost masks the pleasure you get from forcing people to travel so far to meet you!" _I know there's no humble bone in you_. I walk straight into his arms and return the hug.

"Lucian, you know it's the small things in life that bring me joy." He chimes timely. "How's our Prince?"

"Enjoying himself, from what Alex told me." _The poor kid can't beat one off without some rat of yours telling you, can he, Martin? I'll need to reward Alex doubly for all the trouble you're putting her through._

"Yeah, you've got quite the adjunct there. Or is it adviser now? You government folk are always looking for an excuse to squeeze some more money off us. Should we go in?" He smirks and motions to his house.

"Sure." I nod. _Do I even have a choice with you? Ever?_ "I'm not short on time or anything."

He doesn't reply to my last jab, praise to Lunae, and once we walk past the porch things are... odd. The deco is _not_ suburban at all. In fact, most of the furniture would be better placed at the Stephanean Museum as antiques than anywhere else, even our grandmother's. He leads me past a cuckoo clock too elaborate for the good of its maker's mental faculties into a similarly odd looking living room, offering me the sleek-looking, brown chaise longue as a seat while he took his parlor chair and whipped out a pipe and lighting it.

"So," He draws on it and purges the smoke in his lungs through his nostrils. _At least the window is open._ "What is Nieson trying to squeeze out of the votes from the Prairie Group and not being able to this time?"

"Nothing," He raises an eyebrow and lifts the corner of his lip into a smirk as I shuffle through my blazer's inner pocket. _What a bastard, you're gonna tease me with the smoke and not let me have it?_ "It's not Nieson. Not this time, at least."

"Good, he wouldn't have any Historic to negotiate with apart from you if he were to force our hand again so soon. Who is it, then?" Another draw...

"Michael." ...which he promptly chokes on. _Heh._

"The Emperor?" Martin wheezes. "What does he need from the Senate?"

"Not from the Senate, Martin. From you."

"From me?"

"Yup." I state. "From you as an influential person in our politics and a respected Senator."

"That's.. a first." He remarks. "You do know it's usually the Senators pestering him and not the other way around, yes?"

I try not to react to him implying a request from the Crown is pestering, but I assume he caught me on it. "I'm aware, but I'll be asking this as a personal favor too."

"Hm." He nods and goes back to suckling on his pipe. "It must be big, if His Majesty and you are the ones asking. Out with it then."

"Well.. it's about William. The Emperor has asked Nieson to invite him to the Foreign Affairs."

He quickly frowns, finishing the last draw before letting the smoke out and speaking again. "It's unusual, but I don't see why letting William join a Ministry should involve me."

I sigh and rub my temple. He's smart, but it doesn't surprise me he doesn't understand. It _is_ unusual. "You didn't get it, Martin. It's not letting William into the Foreign Affairs. It's to grant him a seat at our table. Michael asked Nieson to invite William to become a Minister."

"Ah." He remarks, again. That's it?

"Ah?"

He nods. "It's a terrible idea, inviting a 19 year old child to head a Ministry. So terrible it didn't even cross my mind the Emperor would think of it. That's what was missing."

"It's... unusual." I try to add. No matter how much I spin it like a ballerina, it's not something you'd ever expect to hear. "But hear me out. Foreign Affairs are mostly a cooperation between the Crown's prerogatives and the Government. The kid's been doing non-stop diplomatic work since the War ended, we'd just be giving him an office to match."

"An office with hundreds of people _and_ an Empire's worth of foreign-policy making, if I might add." He gestures with the pipe, as if it's a mere asterisk to what I'm saying.

His stoicism since I blurted it out is preventing me from feeling the room's temperature and I'm struggling to make something of his thoughts. If he's made up his mind, I won't be able to change it, no matter what I say.

"Hm. Hm-hm-hm." He hums. Martin rises from his chair and places his pipe, by now put out, on the coffee table by the open window. "Hundreds of people with years of experience backing him up in that foreign-policy making, not to mention you, the others and the Emperor himself. I suppose if it was such a terrible idea, you and Nieson would have talked it out of His Majesty. It'll need ample support in the Senate and the Council, which you'll have from us, and since the people fawn over him I doubt there will be much of a scandal. The rest is on you, however. I take no responsibility apart from controlling our elected people."

"And in return?" I ask.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"We are both Pachemaries, Lucian. We serve the Empire and whoever has its crown on their head." He replies. The antique-loving nobleman in him has fully come out, it looks like. "Nieson asking us for help in his squabbles is one thing, a request coming from the Emperor another. I'll take no advantage of it." _And neither should you, little cousin_ , I'm sure he means to leave implied.

I rise from my seat as well and start making my way to the door. This has taken longer than I expected. "I'm glad I have your support."

"You don't, Lucian." He replies. "The Emperor does. It's beneath you to mix it up."

* * *

Once the meeting with Martin is done, Kite and the rest rush me into the items on my agenda for the day, clearly more focused and invested in clearing it than I was. A debrief with the VSS's Security Branch, two meetings with heads of two National Police Detachments, a quick detour to Marty's (unrelated to Martin) Pizzas and an hour-long call from a very angry Arthur questioning me over my supposed slouch in handling the aftermath of the Capital's fake-positive breach, the day was mostly over.

"You guys did it, huh, Kite?" I throw the jab at him from the backseat.

"It wouldn't have been possible without your help, Sir."

I smile. Faceless and irrelevant as they may act like, it's impossible not to get fond of them after a while. I dial Alex's number directly, one of the few I've actually bothered to memorize, but she takes a while to pick up.

"Sir." It comes, curt and formal, as she always is when dealing with me. It's amazing how she turns it off so quickly near William.

"Still partying, I assume?"

"You wouldn't be wrong, sir. The Prince suggested we get familiar with the city's night life and managed to convince the Guard not to overdue it with the security. We're actually managing to have some fun here."

"That's good to hear," I answer, as gesture to Ann, the agent in the passenger seat that usually accompanied me and Kite in this car, to pass me over the third folder in the pile on the floor. "And the negotiations with our Beattie-friend?"

"Beattie's being Beattie, sir," I open the folder and scan through the contents, taking the files concerning our meetings with Lisjev. "But we got lucky. Minister Nowak seems to have enjoyed meeting William and Beattie's all in on letting her run the show until his term ends and she runs in his stead. We can actually get things done with her."

I hum in agreement. "Wiola's a lot more palatable than Beattie, I can't argue with that. You can actually assume she doesn't dream of ways to profit from whatever she can get her hands on."

"Agreed."

"And the rest?" I ask.

"The Prince strolled off with his two guards into some alley, but we should b-"

She has no time to finish. Time seems to pass by so slowly her words seem drag themselves out the phone's speakers and the only motion that draws my eyes to it is the sight of our tail car being smashed into by a van in the rear-view mirror. Kite, it seems, doesn't share my problem, and neither does Ann, since his quick-footing on the accelerator while she draws her gun, an action the agents in the lead car seem to have been able to replicate, since we both manage to barely dodge a speeding sedan that likely missed its coordination mark and us as a result.

"Minister?"

The question drags me back to real-time.

"Prince to safety. Code black."

I manage to hang up before the kick from the sudden acceleration forces me further into my seat and I drop my phone.

"Shi- Ann, report!" I blurt out, struggling not to be thrown around the car as Kite tries to follow the lead car's maneuvering through traffic.

"Tail car neutralized, two wounded, one severe, sir. We're taking you to VSS 4 and multiple attacks are being reported - Defense, ICA and Finance." She replies, holding on to the door's support.

"And the Crown?"

"Silver Peak's in the Palace, they're activating the Citadel protocol."

"Fuck!" I curse. The Citadel protocol turns the Palace into a fortress, with all non-security and government members being transferred and a full lock-down by an Army regiment. We won't be able to get inside if we take too long. "Kite."

"Sir?" He asks.

"Can you get us to the Palace before they achieve Citadel?"

"Only by ditching the lead, sir." He replies.

"Do it, agent. We'll have to handle ourselves."

Ann looks at him, then at me in the rear-view mirror. "I'll tell the lead to take a parallel route."

"Not the fucking end of the day I was expecting." I note.

"It's just starting, sir." Kite adds. And he's right. I didn't order them to get me in the Palace before nobody's able to get in. There's no way to know how many of ours were as lucky as I was and our first in-line to the Crown is in the middle of a foreign city begging to be shot. This _needs_ to be stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you imagine some guy putting tremendous amounts of effort into looking like a with-the-people, small-town senator but the blue blood within him not resisting to decorate the interior like Queen Victoria's bedroom? The chaise longue does look sleek, though.


End file.
